Decaf
by Dr. Tamwe
Summary: We all know that Dilandau can be a tad bit insane. But what happens when Folken finds the key to the mania that drives the young silver-haired miscreant, and denies Dilandau its power?


Folken swept his cape around him, allowing only his eyes the luxury of movement as he surveyed the room for presences

TITLE: Decaf

RATING: G

SUMMARY: It's stupid. Just read it for yourself J

DEDICATION: To my Dad. Yep, you read that correctly, folks. Well, he drinks more coffee than I do, and that's saying something!

~*~

_One night, in the Floating Fortress of Folken Lacour de Fanel…_

Folken swept his cape protectively around him, allowing only his eyes the luxury of movement as he surveyed the room for other presences. Good; no one was in the floating fortress' kitchen. His work would be done quickly and unseen.

He would not have Dilandau interfering with his plans today. The insolent child would be incapacitated by any means necessary, even if it meant tampering with his food. Such was the loyalty of a brother of Fanelia, traitor though he may be.

The operation was not difficult, but had to be done properly if no evidence was to be found. Using great care, Folken removed the lid from the jar and emptied it into a sack he had procured. Glancing behind him once more to be sure of his solitude, he then withdrew a second container and poured its contents into the container whose contents he had just removed.

Decaffeinated coffee. It was hard to come by in the Zaibach territories, but Folken had connections everywhere. With a grim nod of satisfaction, he swept the spilled grounds off the counter and into the skeletal palm of his hand, then swiped them off into the disposal unit. He paused a moment to reflect; would this effect Dilandau too powerfully? He hoped not. He would not like to be responsible for his young colleague's death. But what was done, was done; if necessary he could always come forward with a confession and hand over the remedy. Better to have the sprat angry at him than the emperor.

Folken was a man of keen intellect. He had observed his comrade very closely, and knew the source of his power. Without massive doses of the powerful, bitter morning brew, Dilandau had no spark to ignite his fighting rage. Taking away this vital elixir was all that needed to be done to incapacitate the little berserker. 

Narrowing his eyes, Folken made haste to return to his quarters. If he were to capture Van the next day, he would need to rest his mind and body.

~*~

"Nggg," Dilandau gurgled, slamming a hand down on the "off" button of his alarm clock. He hated mornings. 

Swinging his legs out of bed, he concentrated for a minute on getting his eyes open. At length he succeeded in creating a slit between eyelids that he could see through, and settled for that and began a slow, unsteady shuffle towards the kitchen.

During breakfast, Folken could not help but keep glancing up at his unstable compatriate. Dilandau had woken up near-comatose as usual, and gone straight for the coffee, also as usual. However it had now been an hour, and the young lad was still half asleep. The women did not appear to notice, of course, preening at the table and stealing looks towards their savior. Folken favored each of them in turn with a warm smile.

"Dilandau," he spoke up after a moment, "yesterday I was informed that Van has been wounded and is recovering in Asturia. We're going to capture him today, I think. I'm sending out our fate-enhanced soldiers, we're going to break in to his room, bribe everyone who sees us with your gold, and carry him out in a jewel-encrusted litter. When we get back I want you to tend his wounds and feed him delicacies with a silver spoon. Is that clear?"

The lunatic albino warrior raised his head to squint at Folken. "Who?" he asked, befuddled.

"Nevermind," Folken waved a hand in dismissal, standing and picking up his plate. The silver-haired catwoman rushed over and took it from him, and her sister came right behind her to remove his other dishes. "Report to my station in one hour. I want to move out quickly."

Turning and walking away, the defector from Fanelia indulged in a hopeful grin. Today he'd get his little brother back and there wasn't a thing the incapacitated psycho-child from Hell could do about it.

~*~

_Something wrong. Don't… can't… _

_Maybe more coffee? Yes more._

_Move feet forward. What was I getting? _

_Oh, coffee._

_That way. Somewhere…_

_There! Ahh… sweet sweet coffee. _

_Need to get a cup to put it in..._

_Oh. I have one in my hand already._

_Smells good…_

"Dilandau-sama!"

He looked up, red and drooping eyes staring hazily at the Dragonslayer.

"What do _you_ want?"

"Uh, Dilandau-sama…" a deep bow would possibly make the difference between being smacked around and being beheaded, so the Dragonslayer bowed deeply- "Dilandau-sama, if you drink the blood of fortune, it might make you very ill, sir."The elfin-looking young man swallowed hard. _Remember, it's your duty to protect Lord Dilandau. Maybe he won't kill you…_

"Blood of…?"

_That isn't the coffeemaker._

With a moan of despair, Dilandau let the handle of cup slide out from between his fingers. His shoulders drooped down further than before and he slumped down to the floor.

Somehow he'd ended up in Folken's laboratory, deep in the recesses of the floating fortress, about to drink green fortune-enhancing protein goop.

Well, it was stupid Folken's fault for not labeling the thing. And for making it look like the coffee machine. He'd probably stolen parts from the coffee machine to make it.

_Wait a minute… Folken… coffee machine… maybe he…_

The thought nearly formed itself, then slipped away and dissipated like a puff of steam when he tried to grab hold of it.

Oh well. 

Couldn't have been too important.

The Dragonslayer knelt at length and gingerly poked the prone body of Lord Dilandau. It stirred, groaned, and lapsed back into a deep sleep. With a sigh of relief, Garty knew that his life would not be ended today. He called Chesta, and the two of them carried the limp form of their pyromaniacal commander back into his chambers, where he contentedly dozed for the remainder of that day. 

The End. 


End file.
